Gisèle Pelicot's Unwavering Resilience: An Empowering Account of Survival and Justice

A Story of Unthinkable Betrayal and Extraordinary Courage

In the annals of history, few stories of sexual abuse are as chilling and profound as that of Gisèle Pelicot. For years, she endured repeated drugging and rape, not by a stranger, but by her own husband, Dominique Pelicot, who also orchestrated assaults by dozens of other men in their home. This harrowing ordeal, which began in 2011, remained a dark secret to Gisèle until 2020. Her journey from victim to powerful advocate is at the heart of’The Interview’: Gisèle Pelicot Shares Her Story, revealing a woman of indomitable spirit.

The Unveiling of a Horrifying Truth

The truth came to light in 2020 after Dominique Pelicot's arrest for secretly filming women at a supermarket. Police investigations subsequently uncovered a trove of videos and photographs documenting Gisèle's assaults by at least 70 men—all meticulously recorded and saved by her husband. Four years later, the trial of her abusers commenced, a process that might have kept Gisèle Pelicot's identity hidden were it not for her courageous decision.

Through her memoir, “A Hymn to Life: Shame Has to Change Sides,” set for publication, Gisèle explains her choice to forgo anonymity and make the 2024 trial public. This act of defiance transformed her into a feminist icon, galvanizing women across France to demand reforms in consent laws. Yet, much of Gisèle's personal journey remained an enigma. Last month, in a nearly three-hour interview in Paris—her first with an American media outlet—Gisèle offered a candid and emotional account of her marriage, the devastating impact of the abuse and trial on her and her family, and how she has remarkably found love and peace amidst lingering questions. Her words, originally spoken in French, are translated here, offering an unprecedented glimpse into her world.

Gisèle's Own Words: A Glimpse into Her Soul

Reflecting on Publicly Sharing Her Experience

“When I wrote this book, my intention was for it to be beneficial,” Gisèle begins, explaining her motivation to speak out. “It also gave me the opportunity to introspect, to evaluate my life, and to strive to rebuild from the wreckage. When you hear the stark facts of the trial, you might wonder, ‘How is this woman still standing?’ I felt a deep need to convey that I am, indeed, still standing tall.”

Her Life Before the Unthinkable

Before the abuse came to light, Gisèle and “Monsieur Pelicot”—as she refers to her ex-husband—had retired to Mazan in southeastern France. “I retired just past 60,” she recalls. “I had always worked, raised my children, and led a very active life. I anticipated a joyful retirement with Monsieur Pelicot. Our home in Mazan was envisioned as a haven for friends and family during holidays; we called it ‘the house of happiness.’ Nestled near Mont Ventoux, surrounded by cicadas, olive trees, and sun, complete with a swimming pool, it was a place where I cherished watching my grandchildren grow. My life was fulfilling and happy. Of course, like any couple, we faced challenges, but I shared a profoundjoie de vivrewith Monsieur Pelicot. Everyone—our friends, our family—adored him. He was always helpful, athletic. I only ever knew a kind and caring man. This, in hindsight, is terrifying.”

The Genesis of a Marriage and a Monster

Gisèle’s book delves into her struggle to comprehend the man she married. She met Dominique in July 1971, both 19 years old. “He was a shy boy, always blushing,” she remembers. His family life was troubled; an authoritarian father, financial servitude, and a history of unaddressed trauma, including childhood rape and witnessing a gang rape at 14. “He never received therapy, and his family offered no support,” Gisèle notes.

They married young, against her father’s wishes. “My primary desire was to escape and build a happy life, and for a time, that’s what happened,” she recounts. They moved to the Parisian suburbs, started a family, and, despite humble beginnings, were deeply in love. “They say love stories don’t end well, and mine ended badly 50 years later. Still, I hold onto the good moments from that life.”

The Ominous Onset: Unexplained Blackouts and Manipulation

Dominique Pelicot's abuse reportedly began in 2011, escalating significantly after their 2013 retirement to Mazan, when Gisèle started experiencing memory loss. Her first episode in 2011 remains a blank until revealed by investigators. “I woke up one night, sensed something amiss with Monsieur Pelicot, and mumbled, ‘What are you doing? Leave me alone.’ Sedated, though not sufficiently for his purpose, I drifted back to sleep, only to wake at 6 p.m. the next day. When I questioned why he hadn’t woken me, he simply said, ‘You were tired, I let you sleep.’ The prolonged sleep intrigued me, but I didn't dwell on it.”

The pattern repeated in September 2013. This time, she didn't wake up during the night but discovered bleach-like stains on her pants the next day. Unable to recall the previous evening, she approached her husband. “I asked him, ‘Doumé, you’re not drugging me, are you?’ It was as casual as asking about dinner plans. To my astonishment, he cried, saying, ‘Do you realize what you’re accusing me of?’ His reaction completely disoriented me, and I ended up apologizing. My subconscious had detected something, but I buried it deeply.”

Isolation and Medical Deception

Gisèle’s book vividly portrays her growing dependence and isolation. Retired, with her children living elsewhere, and increasingly frequent blackouts preventing her from driving, she became vulnerable. Dominique Pelicot meticulously controlled her medical appointments, ensuring he was present to oversee her treatment.

“I always believed this man would protect me,” Gisèle states. When her memory lapses began, she confided in him. “I told him I needed to see a doctor for something serious, but he dismissed it, saying I’d worry the children for nothing.” He eventually took her to a neurologist, who, in his presence, diagnosed a ministroke, assuring her it was nothing serious. “In the car, he said, ‘See, I told you there’s nothing wrong.’ But the blackouts persisted.”

A second neurologist, whom she saw independently, delivered a devastating diagnosis to her children: early signs of Alzheimer’s. “I felt doomed, preparing for the end, constantly thinking of my mother who died young.” Even for gynecological issues, Dominique accompanied her. “Many people ask, ‘How could she not have known?’ But that’s the reality. I trusted him so implicitly; I couldn't conceive of his manipulation. He always declared I was the love of his life. How can you treat the love of your life in such a way? It's unfathomable.”

The Devastating Revelation: A Life Shattered

The Supermarket Incident and False Forgiveness

In 2020, Dominique confessed to filming women's skirts at a supermarket. “I found it hard to believe,” Gisèle admits, “because in 50 years, I’d never witnessed him do anything underhanded. He wasn’t a man who joked about women or behaved inappropriately.” She confronted him. “He claimed it was an impulse because I ‘wasn’t there.’ I told him I’d help him get help, warning him, ‘For now, I’m forgiving you, but next time, I’ll leave.’ He assured me he’d learned his lesson.”

“I believed him,” she reflects, “and that’s what terrifies me even today. How could he look me in the eye and speak to me like that? Like that last breakfast, the day I discovered the full truth. We ate as if nothing had happened.”

The Police Station: Unraveling the Horror

Two months after his supermarket confession, Gisèle and Dominique were called to the police station. She expected to discuss the supermarket photos. Dominique went in first. When Gisèle was called, she found Lieutenant Perret alone. After routine questions, the tone shifted. “He asked if I practiced swinging with Monsieur Pelicot. I was bewildered. ‘Of course not! At my age? I’m a modest woman. The idea of another man touching me is unthinkable.’”

Then, the officer’s face changed. “Madame Pelicot, what I’m about to tell you is not going to please you.” Her heart pounded. He opened a folder, revealing a photo. “Do you recognize yourself?” Gisèle saw herself with an unknown man, being raped. “I said, ‘I don’t know this man.’ My mind screamed, ‘That’s not me.’ He showed a second, similar photo. ‘That’s you.’ I denied it. He insisted, ‘This is your room, your bedside lamps. We searched your home; these are your belongings.’”

Her brain entered dissociation. When he offered videos, she cried, “No, I can’t anymore.” The officer delivered the devastating news: “Your husband is in police custody; he won’t be leaving with you. You have been raped many times. We have arrested 53 individuals,” a number she later learned would climb. “You have been raped about 200 times.” “But that’s not possible,” she whispered, asking for water.

Psychologists were on standby. “All I wanted was to go home; it couldn’t be true. I was in another world.” Lieutenant Perret drove her home, advising her not to stay alone due to remaining unarrested perpetrators. She called a friend, but still, disbelief reigned. “It was like a bad joke, not denial, but total disbelief.” When her friend arrived, Gisèle finally articulated the horror: “Dominique has been arrested. He’s in custody because he raped me and had me raped.” “That’s the first time I said the word,” she recalls. “It took me almost five hours to absorb it.”

Coping with the Unimaginable: Shame, Dissociation, and Family Fallout

The Unconscious Self: A Rag Doll

To see that unconscious version of herself was devastating. “I’m a rag doll,” Gisèle explains. “It’s like coming out of surgery, completely anesthetized. When you see what these men did to me, how was it possible my body felt nothing? It truly was anesthesia. Fortunately, I have no memories, because I think I would have killed myself otherwise. I couldn’t have survived that.”

She rationalized, “It wasn’t me. Itwasme, but it wasn’t. Monsieur Pelicot had disguised me. I looked like a sack of potatoes, without soul or anything. That woman wasn’t me. That’s probably what saved me, telling myself that.”

The Wave of Shame

“A wave of shame swelled up inside me” after the revelation, Gisèle writes. “I believe all victims experience this shame. You feel dirty, degraded. There’s nothing human about it. I spent hours in the shower, attempting to wash away this filth, this dirt that makes you feel dehumanized.”

The Scale of Abuse and Physical Degradation

The trial revealed the horrific extent of the abuse: Dominique Pelicot found men online for these assaults, meticulously filmed each encounter, and they occurred constantly—after family dinners, during vacations. Gisèle recounts a terrifying moment when a dental crown loosened. “I was eating breakfast, Monsieur Pelicot opposite me. Due to Covid, no dentist. I knew it would fall, feared swallowing it. I asked, ‘Could you help?’ He retrieved gauze. I wondered, how did it give way? It wasn’t loose yesterday. He said, ‘You must have bitten down on something.’”

“When I discovered the videos showing the violence inflicted on my limp mouth—they had to hold my head because my face was slack, I had no muscle tone—and Monsieur Pelicot didn’t even react,” she says, tears welling up. “There was no empathy, no pity for this woman, completely dead in her bed. It was incredibly violent to realize they didn’t spare me even that.”

The Toll on Her Family

Beyond Gisèle’s own suffering, police discovered images of her daughters-in-law in the shower and her daughter, Caroline, asleep in unfamiliar underwear. All three children grapple with their father’s actions. Caroline suffered a breakdown and required hospitalization. Gisèle describes the agony of balancing her own victimhood with being a mother to adult children in crisis.

“Suffering doesn’t necessarily unite a family. It’s an explosion that shatters everything. We try to recover, each in our own way. Caroline’s pain is immense, especially the lingering doubt—an inescapable hell with no answers. Those two photos of her asleep raise so many questions, but I have no answers, and Monsieur Pelicot offered none.”

She hopes he will one day feel remorse and speak to his daughter. “She’s 47 now, and her desire is to be recognized as a victim; she isn’t officially one. He was convicted for taking images but not for what he did to Caroline.” Gisèle reflects on how her life revolved around family. “All those memories, what can we do with them now? You can’t rewind life.”

Reconciling the Past: “Sorting Dirty Laundry”

Gisèle struggled to reconcile her happy memories with the truth about Dominique. “If the last 50 years of my life were taken away, it would be as if I had never existed. I would be dead,” she writes. This is a complex form of grief. “You grieve for the life you had. I couldn’t erase all the good memories; otherwise, my existence would be void. So I held onto them. It’s like sorting laundry: separating clean and dirty clothes. I set the dirty laundry aside and kept everything clean.”

The Public Trial: A Stand for Collective Justice

Waiving Anonymity: A Moment of Truth

In France, victims of sexual violence can remain anonymous. Gisèle made the extraordinarily brave decision to waive this right, allowing an open trial. “It took me four years to make this decision,” she explains. Initially, she wanted a closed trial, but her daughter challenged her: “‘Mom, you’re doing them a huge favor. Think about it.’ One day, walking alone, I realized she was right. Carrying this shame adds insult to injury; it’s a double sentence. Fighting that shame individually also meant working for the collective good.”

She knew she’d made the right choice on September 2nd, walking into the hearing room filled with 51 defendants and 45 lawyers. “When the presiding judge announced a closed hearing, my lawyers stood up and declared, ‘Your Honor, our client waives her right to a closed trial.’ The defense lawyers and defendants stared, defiant, as if to say, ‘She dared!’ It was dreadful. I told myself, ‘Hang in there, my dear, you’re going all the way.’ And I did. They tried to break me, calling me an accomplice, saying I consented, implying I was responsible. I didn’t flinch. It takes guts. You have to be strong.”

Facing the Accused: Denial and Defiance

Entering the courtroom, Gisèle saw her attackers’ faces for the first time—men aged 22 to 70. “It was unbelievable to think,thesepeople came into my bedroom to rape me.” They claimed it wasn't rape, that her husband had consented, found through a chat room called “Without Her Knowledge.” They denied guilt, almost seeing themselves as innocent.

Facing their gaze was tough. “One accused kept staring, trying to make me look away. I stared back until he lowered his eyes. He understood I wouldn’t give in. Their lawyers tried to destabilize, humiliate me. That’s when I began to raise my voice, to end the masquerade.”

Fortunately, she had undeniable evidence: pictures and videos. Asked if they received Gisèle's consent, most replied, “Well… no.” Asked if they raped her, they said, “Uh, no.” The videos were then shown. Despite claims of being pressured by Dominique, the videos revealed their own monstrous violence. “Their denial was so profound that even after seeing the videos, they still denied rape. It’s unbelievable.” Their wives also testified, claiming their husbands incapable. “A mother my age called her 45-year-old son ‘my baby boy,’ incapable of rape. She didn’t even look at me. This too was shocking, because I wasn’t recognized as a victim. Her implication was that if her son raped me, I must have been okay with it.”

The Agony of Watching the Videos

Gisèle had refused to watch the videos before the trial, but with her decision to go public, her lawyers told her she now had to. “You can never be ready to watch this kind of video,” she admits. “I chose a day to lock myself in my office and watch via videoconference. My lawyer started with one of the hardest. It’s truly unbearable. You see the violence, these individuals like animals. And you’re this disjointed, unconscious body, without a soul, with nothing left.”

She watched many, though not all. “I was just taking it, like a boxer rolling with the punches. You fall and you get back up.” Afterward, she needed a walk. “That’s when my tears streamed. How could the man I shared my life with, the father of my children, have let these people in? He knew what this was. What was going on in his head? How could he not feel compassion?”

Back from her walk, she told her friend, “Let’s talk about something else.” Her brain recorded it, but she compartmentalized it. “All right, we’ll use them as evidence. Not all victims have this.” During the trial, while the videos were shown, Gisèle focused on her phone—pictures of the beach, Mont Ventoux—her escape. “What profoundly shocked me was hearing myself snore in the videos due to the sedation. There was nothing left of me.”

Justice, Lingering Shadows, and a Path Forward

A Victory for Justice

All defendants were found guilty. “For me, it was justice served,” Gisèle states. “The sentence doesn’t matter. Monsieur Pelicot received the maximum 20 years, as the ringleader. For the others, their guilt was what mattered, which is why I didn’t contest their sentences.” She empathizes with other victims, especially those without evidence. “For victims who *do* have memories, imagine their despair when cases are closed for lack of evidence. It’s one person’s word against another’s.”

The Burden of Unidentified Perpetrators

Not all men in the videos were identified. “I try not to think about it,” Gisèle says. “Sometimes, when I cross paths with a man, I think, ‘What if…?’ In Avignon, a man paid for my meal. I wondered, ‘What if he’s one of my rapists who wasn’t arrested?’ I quickly try to stop those thoughts. I’m not paranoid, but I could encounter one who knows me, though I don’t know him.”

The Broader Implications: Mazan and Beyond

The trial revealed a shocking number of rapists in a small village like Mazan, including a neighbor. “I don’t think my story is isolated,” Gisèle says, citing similar cases globally. “This speaks volumes about men’s behavior, but we must not generalize that all men would do this. That would be a real problem.” Her core belief: early education for children is crucial. “Most of these men had hard lives; some were even raped themselves. But having suffered as a child doesn’t excuse repeating the pattern.”

The Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Revelation

Dominique Pelicot is now under investigation for two earlier crimes: a 1999 attempted rape using ether, to which he confessed after DNA evidence linked him, and the alleged rape and murder of another woman in the early 1990s, which he denies. Learning about the 1999 case was another bomb. “I wondered, ‘How did I not notice any signs?’ He must have come home that evening, sat at dinner with the children, and behaved as if nothing happened. He showed us one of his two faces: a considerate, caring man. We didn’t see the other. He truly was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

Regarding the murder investigation, Gisèle hopes he is innocent but wants the victim’s family to find truth. “If he’s guilty, it will be another hellish journey for his children and for me.”

Rebuilding Relationships and Seeking Closure

Reconciliation with Her Daughter, Caroline

Initially, Gisèle and Caroline's relationship strained. Due to the overwhelming evidence in Gisèle’s case, Caroline's own allegations, based on two questionable photos, were not pursued as vigorously. “There was indeed the father’s incestuous gaze on his daughter. I never denied it. But I tried to tell Caroline, ‘You know, maybe…’ because I didn’t want her to suffer further. I think she’s more fragile than I am.” Gisèle admits she might have inadequately supported her daughter, trying to shield her from deeper pain. “She was angry, which is reasonable. I never allowed myself to fall apart in front of my children, but she had every right, especially with him being her father.”

Time and distance led to healing. After Gisèle’s surgery in November, Caroline called, sensing a need for closeness. “I’m being very careful, but she realized I wasn’t responsible. I think she might have conflated her father and me. Now, she’s realizing, ‘My mother is not responsible for any of it.’” They haven't met yet, but regular calls and shared moments, like videos of her grandson, signify a repair.

The Desire for Truth from Prison

Gisèle intends to visit Dominique in prison. “I hope that face to face, he’ll tell me the truth, about his daughter and everything else he’s accused of. Maybe he’ll have some remorse. I’m still holding onto that hope. Perhaps I’m naive, but I hope for answers he couldn’t provide in court. Maybe he’ll feel compelled to ‘free his conscience.’” She anticipates a difficult moment, never having been in a prison, but holds onto the slim hope of his remorse, if he's capable.

A New Chapter: Finding Love and Embracing Life

Trusting Again: A Remarkable Love Story

In the four years between Dominique’s arrest and the trial, Gisèle moved to a small French island, made new friends, and, astonishingly, found love again. “I never imagined falling in love again, or even wanting to. It seemed impossible,” she reflects. She met a man through mutual friends, a man who also endured a difficult journey, caring for his severely ill wife for a decade until her passing. “We talked a lot. We were two battered souls.”

She was reluctant to share her past, fearing it would scare him. “But it happened naturally. He had read a piece in Le Monde and started talking about my story. He made me comfortable.” They began dating. “We thought, maybe it won't last. Then, we went to the opera to see ‘Carmen.’ We were like two teenagers. I had my first kiss that day, and I thought, Yes, maybe there’s something here. He truly changed my life. I trust him fully; he has a beautiful soul. You might say, ‘You also trusted Monsieur Pelicot,’ but this man doesn’t have that perversion. He had a happy childhood, and I know his children, his family, and friends. We’re going to do great things together, making the most of these beautiful years we have left.”

Embracing Her Body and Life

“How do you feel about your own body now, after everything?” she is asked. “I was able to heal myself,” Gisèle replies. “I walk, I bike. I’m fortunate to live on a beautiful island. I feel good in my mind *and* my body. I’m alright with my age, 73. It’s not easy; you get more wrinkles. But I’m alright with them because I’m fortunate to have these wrinkles, which my mother never got to have.” She tears up, speaking of her mother. “I’m lucky to be alive.”

Gisèle Pelicot’s story, as illuminated in’The Interview’: Gisèle Pelicot Shares Her Story, is a testament to the enduring human spirit, a beacon of hope for victims, and a powerful call for justice and change. Her bravery has not only rebuilt her own life but has also empowered countless others to reclaim their voices.